


Things I Couldn't Say

by DebsterClintashaLove



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cutting, Denial, Drugs, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Natasha Needs a Hug, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebsterClintashaLove/pseuds/DebsterClintashaLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is drugged and sexually assaulted on a mission gone wrong...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translations:  
> Suka = bitch  
> Mudak = asshole  
> Ptichka = little bird

The last thing she remembers was screaming at a scumbag 'get the fuck off me', as he viciously thrusted into her against her will, sunk his teeth deep into her skin, and closed his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. What was happening never stopped. The man never stopped. She was powerless. Her limbs refused to move, as hard as she tried. She was disoriented, the room spinning around in multiple directions. Her body was slow to any reaction that it couldn't even attempt to do. Her head was pounding against her skull, but she felt everything, and she...she just let him. As painful as it was, she couldn't do anything in the moment except scream, but she didn't let herself scream. She didn't let herself show the weakness that was building inside her in the moment. She did her best and got past it, weakly feeling for a knife then sliting the man's throat on contact, blood splurging out on her face, before she viciously threw him off her. Now it was over, a thing of the past...no...a traumatic experience that she thought she'd escaped years ago as a young girl. The Red Room wasn't gracious if you didn't follow commands on point to their exact expectation. She was walking slowly, body shaking convulsively, weakly through the nearly twelve in the morning streets, arms cradling herself closely. She could still hardly move, the drug still coursing through her system, and with every stride, she felt another sting of unbearable pain on or in a different area of her body. Her dress was ripped up the side viciously, one strap snapped and hanging while the other hung down her shoulder. She looked like she was just beat in a back alley...honestly, she would've that rather been the situation. This was a mission gone wrong. Horridly wrong to the point where, as tough as she was, drugs beat her in this fight. One Rohypnol wouldn't have phased her one bit, and she would've gotten out with her self security, but when three mixed in a drink, unknowingly, got into her system, she may as well have been dead. She continued to walk, after about three hours, reaching her home. She limped in, making no attempt to hide anything, but keeping as quiet as a mouse as she was not about to wake him from his sleep. She walked to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her, and placing her hands roughly to lean against the countertop and observe herself in the mirror. She had blue, purple bruises and bite marks on her neck and collarbones and shoulders, one of the bites in her collarbone sinking so deep, they broke through her skin. She had an elongated cut across her cheek, dried blood resembling a paint drop streak from the cut down her jaw. Her hair was a disastrous mess, her mascara smeared under her eyes and down her cheeks as a result of tears. She could hardly hold herself up anymore when she dropped to the ground, back sliding down the cabinet, landing abruptly to the floor. She had small bruises covering her legs, a small stab wound playing at her thigh. She couldn't take the pain, but couldn't scream, yell, let her feelings out, so she just resorted to the next best thing. She leaned up weakly, rummaging through the drawer until she found scissors, pulling them out with her. She took the blade, first running the sharp edge along her wrist, blood dripping slightly from the cut area, but it wasn't enough. She wanted it all to just...relieve. She took the scissors back, going over to the other arm and running the blade from her wrist, up to the crevass where her forearm and arm meet. She cut deep enough to ooze blood, but not deep enough to cause any real damage to herself. She dropped the scissors to the ground, blood splattering on the floor and her thigh, head slamming back against the cabinet. Head still pounding, limbs in too much pain to move, she sat there, letting the blood run down her leg to the floor, her eyes slowly shutting herself out from this shitty world, tears building in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. If she hadn't have murdered the man who did this, she knows someone who'd be more than willing. This was her relief. This was her therapy. Her fucked up happiness.

* * * * * * * *

She slowly awoke, hearing loud thuds against the door. She wasn't completely up, still felt like she was some place else, some place better, but she was awake enough to notice that she was face down on the floor, feeling groggy, body sprawled out in the bathroom. She felt like she had the worst hangover times ten. A date rape hangover, if you would.

"Nat, open the door! What the hell happened?!" He yelled out worryingly, but it all came out to her as another language she hadn't bothered to learn because she knew too damn many. There was a loud bang, and she heard the door topple to the floor. "Oh g- Nat, what the fuck? Nat..." she heard a voice in concern, feeling a hand creep on her shoulder to try to pull her up until she viciously retorted back, throwing herself halfway across the bathroom. The last time someone touched her, they caused all this. She looked back up to see it was him, and she nervously pulled her knees to her chest. She could see the fear, hurt in his eyes, as he observed her up and down. He slowly crawled over to her. 

"Nat...Nat it's-" he choked on his words because he didn't want to even fucking bare why she looked like this. He placed a gentle hand on her knee, and she sighed nervously before relaxing against his touch because this was Clint. This was the man who wouldn't dare hurt her. She let her eyes begin to water a little, still shaking violently from his touch. "Nat, what happened?" He pled softly, the tears running down his cheeks, as his hands moved to her arms, examining her self wounds. He couldn't stand to see her this hurt, see his Natasha in so much pain.

"It...s nothing." She mumbled weakly, looking around her to see the floor painted red with her blood, eyeing all her wounds she'd obtained.

"Natasha, this...this isn't fucking nothing. What the hell happened on that mission?" He answered back sternly, before his mouth was agape, eyeing and ghosting his fingers to the bite mark that cut too deep. His tears ran endlessly now, as he pulled his hand back, looking down in his lap, and she could see his tears fall to the floor. She wanted to let hers escape, but she couldn't let him see her so weak.

"Clint..I didn't...was a mi...mission..." she stuttered, weakly, slowly and painfully rising to crawl over to him and sit on her legs, knees facing him. She wrapped her arms around him, but he buried his face into her lap, sobbing violently, arms snaking around to cradle her.

"You could've fucking died...oh god, I could've lost you, Nat.." he sobbed into her lap, clutching her tighter, and she leaned down and rested her head on his, tears running into his hair.

"He drugged me...and...and I was, fucking helpless for the first time.." she whispered, as she saw his head raise to look at her. She didn't care if he saw her like this, she couldn't keep it inside anymore, "...it was like The Red Room again. My past came back, and I couldn't do shit, and I was so damn weak..." She didn't finish before his arms were around her, and she was crying into his chest. 

"Who the fuck did this to you?" He asked, angrily, wanting to make the scumbag who hurt her suffer.

"Dead."

He pulled away, looking at her before standing to his feet, gently taking her with him, before the sounds she made from cringing pain cutting into his heart. He lifted her slowly onto the counter, taking his hands away for the first aid kit, looking over her body at the cuts and bite marks, wincing.

"Tash, a couple of band aids isn't going to help you, I've got to take you to the hosp-"

"No!"

"Tasha, you can't-"

"I don't want them touching me at all!" She screamed in a plea, tears staining her cheeks, as she gripped his shirt by the front. He could see the fear in her eyes that he never had before, and Natasha was a tough woman. He didn't want to remind her of that again. "Just, just do what you can, please."

He sighed, being understanding before he grabbed peroxide, pouring it slowly onto a towel and pressing it as gently as he could to the mark.

"Nat, this..god, this needs stitching up." He winced.

"Then you do it." She simply replied. He looked back into her eyes, upset filling his own as he pulled out a needle, threading and a syringe he loaded with antibiotics. He stuck the needle in one of the marks, numbing her collarbone so he could begin to thread the needle through her skin. He threaded through each hole until her skin was sealed together, then he numbed her leg so he could stitch up her stab wound on her thigh. He put that equipment up, using the towel again to dab her cheek and clean the blood. The cut on her cheek wasn't as bad as the blood made it out to be, but the cut wasn't little. He added more peroxide, pressing on the other bite marks he wanted to make sure were disinfected at the least and moved to the cuts on her arms.

"Jesus, Tash...you do this?" He asked, and she nodded, in shame, dropping her eyes back down. He gently placed his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him before he took her hand, placing her fingers along the cut that ran up his bicep. He'd been through self harm before, knowing the pain she felt, because it was his only way to feel relief before he met her. "Don't be ashamed. Sometimes it's...it's the only resolution to pain. I get that, but...I'm here for you now. I don't want you to do this, Nat. I'm not going to stop you, but I just want you to talk to me when you feel like this..just...just tell me when something hurts." He struggled his last words. She lightly smirked at him, reassuring him that she'd do so. He took care of the cuts on both her arms, wrapping them up in bandaging. He checked for any other injuries before pushing the kit to the side and hugging her in his arms. He didn't want to take anything too far and make her feel uncomfortable. Her embrace is all he needed. She sighed into his neck, her arms snaking around him tightly. She needed his warmth, needed to know she was still breathing, still alive with him. She kissed his pulse point carefully, letting more tears slip from her eyes. He moved his hands to her thighs to pick her up and walk to bed with her. He set her down so gently, but she didn't want to let go of him. He pulled her arms away, walking over to the drawer to pull out a fresh pair of shorts and tank top for her. He walked back over, sitting down on the bed, and handing her the clothing.  
"We're burning the dress. I don't want to fucking see it again."

She stripped away the dress, throwing it to the floor, and she was completely bare to him, but he didn't stare because he wasn't doing anything normal now. He was being tender and caring and careful with his actions toward her more than ever. She threw on the shorts before covering her breasts with her arm and tapping his shoulder lightly. He turned back to her, noticing she threw the tank top to the floor.

"Can I wear your shirt?" She asked innocently, and he simply responded with a smile, pulling his plain violet shirt over his jead and handing it to her. She pulled it over her body, snuggling into the warmth of it before laying down on the bed. She pulled his hand into hers, dragging him down to lay next to her and face her. She pulled the covers over them, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him until he was face to face with her. She tangled their fingers together, before slowly moving closer to press her lips to his chastely.

"You don't have to do that if-"

She cut him off with her lips meeting his again, this time slower than before, longer than before. He kissed her back, tasting her on his lips and wondering how any bastard could hurt her the way that man had. His hands lingered to her thighs by nature, pulling her legs up around his waist, and she flinched into the kiss, shaking and pulling back abruptly, kneeing him in the gut, and he let out an elongated groan. 

"Oh fuck, Nat, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I got...shit I'm sorry." He apologized nervously with a low groan, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world because that's the last thing he wanted to do.

"No, no, I'm so sorry! I just...it's...kind of...sore down there. It...really fucking hurts, and it's just this excruciating pain. I'm still a little...shaky, I guess." She replied, afraid, before she wrapped her arms back around his neck and laid her head against his chest.

"I wasn't trying to...you know, make you-"

"I know, just...not for a while. I'm not..not ready for that again."

"Tasha...I don't have to fuck you for the rest of my life, and I'd still be the happiest man alive staying like this with you." He confessed, holding his arms back around her. "I don't want anything but you and your happiness."

She smiled back at him, knowing she would never be able to have anyone better than Clint, because he was the best man anyone could ask for. She leaned over to him, lips just touching his sweetly. His hand made it's way to rest on her cheek, thumb running over the scar on her face.

"You know how beautiful you are right?"

"I don't feel anywhere near that statement." She mumbled against his lips. He sighed sadly, pulling her closer in his embrace, kissing the top of her head. To her, she may have looked like a battered, brutal mess, but to him, she didn't look anything less than the most gorgeous woman in the world. 

"Don't say that, please. Nat, you're so fucking beautiful. I just...I wish I would've been there. I would've made that motherfucker suffer...no...he wouldn't have even had the chance to lay a finger on you."

"It's not your fault, Clint. It just...it went wrong. That wasn't suppos...posed to happen." She mummered, her eyes forcing themselves to keep open to the sound of his voice. She buried herself closer against his chest, shutting her eyes to the world. "I just need you here for me right now. That's all I need you to do, and I'll be happy." She began to slowly drift away fom it all, keeping close to Clint like he was her anchor. She could feel his tears drip through he hair to her head, so she lifted her head to look back up at him. "Clint....Ptichka...I'm okay. I'm here. Don't you dare go blaming yourself."

He simply responded with a small kiss to her lips, and she felt her arms grip him tighter.

"Don't do this to me..." she pled softly, referring to the lengthy cut along his bicep and the tiny ones surrounding it, her fingers ghosting over it gently. "...don't shut me out again." She knew where those smaller scars had come from. He took a small blade and carved them into his skin when he was freed from Loki, trying to end what he'd caused. During that time, she remembers him shutting her out for days and all she wanted was to help. She wasn't going to let him put the weight of this instance on his shoulders.

"I should've-"

"No. You couldn't have done anything, Clint. You cannot hide yourself from me again. I need you. You can't shut it all out, Clint. Please don't do that to me." She pled quietly, voice nearly inaudible.

"Okay, Tasha.." he rubbed her back, reassuring her he wasn't leaving before she felt herself drift and fall asleep against his chest.

* * * * * * * *

She didn't sleep calmly as nightmares of the reoccurring assault happened, and she was even more powerless than before. She awoke with a gasp, heavy breathing and broken out in a sweat. She stared back blankly over at the clock, reading five a.m. Clint slowly woke up to her scare, setting a hand around her waist. She felt a hand lay on her, and she retorted back with a sharp breath, punch to the person's face, yelling "don't fucking touch me", before she realized it was Clint.

"Oh shit, Clint, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She mumbled apologetically in upset. He grabbed at his nose in response, feeling as though it may have broken and the blood dripping down.

"No, Nat, it's fine really.." he responded, not making a big deal of it, but she was already setting him up and dragging him to the bathroom. She grabbed a towel and held it to his nose gently, and he slightly winced at the pressure.

"Fuck, Clint..I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to...I just..." she sighed in frustration and upset, walking from the bathroom into the kitchen, taking a bottle of sleeping pills with her. She had to sleep through the night, not wake up to hurting him because of all this.

"Nat, I'm fine." He tried to assure her, following behind, as she opened the bottle, grabbing two pills and a bottle of liquor from the cabinet. She poured a glass of the drink, setting the bottle back down on the counter. She felt horrible whenever she hurt him in times she thought he was someone else. He dropped the towel to the counter, snatching the liquor from her before she neared the pills toward her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?" He angrily replied, but he was more worried than anything. She had a bad tendency of overdoing something when she's in pain. He'd never forget the time she'd nearly killed herself by overdosing on whatever pills she could find when she found out about her miscarriage. He remembered assuring her that they could maybe just have a child...but he mislead her and almost lost her.

"I need to sleep, Clint. I'm not going to let myself hurt you again, because I wake up in a damn nightmare! Last time I checked, pills and alcohol help you sleep." She defended, grabbing the glass from him, but he snatched it back viciously, chucking it across the kitchen. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"God dammit, Tasha! You're going to fucking kill yourself, you know that?" He yelled in fear, fists slamming on the counter. He rested his elbows to the counter, breath heavy, burying his face into his hands. She stood there, mouth slightly agape, slowy moving her hand to rest on his back, and he convulsed softly. "I....can't..fucking lose...you."

She moved closer, hands to his shoulders, leaning down to kiss his temple softly until she felt her arms wrap around his torso, pulling her body to his.

"Clint....you don't understand how I'm feeling right now. I'm having nightmares about this shit that I never wanted to feel again." She whispered, voice broken.

"That's why I'm here." He reassured her quietly, lifting his face from his hands to look up at her. She adjusted her head so that their eyes met. "You feel like shit, you come talk to me, okay? I want to help you through this."

"Okay." She simply replied, quieting her voice, leaning down a little to press her lips to his. She pulled him by his waist back into the bathroom, cleaning his nose of the blood. "Shit, it's sprained.. I'm sorry about this." She winced in apology. He lifted his hand to hold her wrist, lifting it to his lips tenderly to kiss her hand sweetly, hearing her sudden intake of breath.

"It's alright, I promise." He assured her softly. "You just nearly broke the only healthy part of my body left, but it's okay." He joked sarcastically, and she smirked lightly, right hooking his shoulder.

"You're a mudak."

"And you're a suka...but that doesn't stop me from loving you." He retorted in sarcasm, leaning in to chastely set his lips against hers, hands cradling her hips tenderly. She kissed him back, hands setting on his shoulders, and she wanted nothing more than to take back to bed and fuck him until they couldn't walk the next day, but she was still a little...afraid of the idea. He pulled back slowly, eyes lingering over hers, as he walked them back to the bedroom. He laid down on the bed, pulling her body against his chest, spooning her, with his head on her shoulder. She scouted closer to his warmth, arms resting over his own, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm here if you want to talk, okay? Don't think about what happened anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going to hurt you."

She smiled a bit, removing her arms to grasp hold of his and set them around her stomach under his shirt she was wearing. She wanted to feel his hands against her skin, feel the warmth he carried with him. He hugged her closer, burying his face into her shoulder, mummering a quiet 'I love you.' Her breathing became slower at the sound of his words. They didn't say it often, mainly because they didn't have to, but when they did, it really hit hard and meant a lot. In times of pain, it showed they could still feel and was like a pain reliever.

"I love you too, Clint." She whispered back before closing her eyes and falling asleep. She tossed and turned in her sleep, unable to get comfortable no matter how she laid. She was just in a nearly unbearable amount of pain. Every movement set off a singe of pain through her body. She didn't get a full night's sleep before she was slightly opening her eyes to broad daylight. She was laying her chest to the matress, turning her head a little to see he wasn't there. She groaned a little, lifting her body from the bed, slowly rising from the bed to walk to the bathroom, wincing in pain with every step she took. She was in more pain than she could even describe, more sore than she had ever been. She began rummaging through the bag of medications, trying to find and consume any painkillers she could. She swallowed down four different pills, hoping they'd have some affect on her aching figure. She walked out to her drawers, grabbing sweats and a black v-neck shirt to change before she walked around the house looking for him. She found him sitting at the kitchen table, orange juice in hand, tablet on the table, his free fingers scrolling across the screen. She made her way to sit next to him at the table, pulling a knee to her chest and looking down at the screen.

"Afternoon." He replied simply, looking over at me with a soft smile, referring to the time as two in the afternoon.

"Hey. Did Fury call in?"

"Already concerned about work. Yeah, he did."

"Shit, what'd he say?" She asked with an annoyed groan.

"He wanted you out in the field tomorrow, so I told him to go fuck himself." He answered, closing the cover over the tablet, before leaning back a little in his chair, looking over at her.

"Clint, why the hell did you say that?" She yelled slightly, mad at his neglect to wake her and hand her the phone.

"Tasha, you're not serious, right? You were just raped, and you want to go back into the field again? On the same type of mission? No way in hell."

"Clint, I don't need you making my decisions for me!" She yelled in annoyance. "Did you tell him that?"

"He had to know, Nat. He said to take time off." He answered defensively, setting the glass down on the table. She sighed angrily, burying her face into her hand.

"I'm fine." She groaned into her hand, a slight headache beginning because she was so stressed and annoyed. He leaned over, facing her and taking her hand from her face, looking her in the eyes.

"Just....take a break, please. You're going to kill yourself with all this." He pled quietly, tangling his fingers with hers. She inhaled deeply, staring down at him in thought.

"You're making me feel like a fucking damsel in distress."

"Nat, really...? You were fucking sexuall-"

"I know, I know, will you please stop fucking saying it!"

"Jesus Christ, Tash, then realize it!" He yelled back in frustration. "I'm trying to help you."

"I have fucking realized it, Clint!" She screamed back, pulling her hand from his to get up from the seat, standing in the middle of the kitchen, back to him. "I know what happened to me, okay?! I was raped by some scumbag who sunk his teeth into my skin, beat the living hell out of me, and covered my mouth with his hand so I couldn't scream and call for help and I was left helpless and defenseless and weak, and yet...I still can't let myself relax.."

She sighed shakily, holding back tears and convulsive sobbing. He slowly rose to his feet, walking up behind her, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder, before he was turning her slowly, wrapping his arms around her back and a hand sinking into her short, red hair. She cried against his chest, hugging herself to his body so tight, she'd fall if she let him go, because she could hardly hold herself up anymore. He shushed her quietly, trying to calm her and stop her pain and convulsing, but he honestly didn't know how to make her forget something like this.

"I'm so sorry I can't make you forget." He mumbled against the top of her head, into her soft hair, shutting his eyes tight as he kept her in his arms.

"It's not you...it's not...you." She stuttered against his chest, holding him tighter.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, tears slipping into her hair, while he kissed the top of her head tenderly. He really was sorry, sorry he wasn't there. He saw the strong woman she was, but then he saw the young little girl that came out after all this, and it broke his heart. He didn't know what he could do. He couldn't make her forget, couldn't cure her of her nightmares. All he could do was be there, so he did...like he always has been, hugging her as close as he could in his embrace, reminding her she still had something worth living for...someone who cared about her more than anything or anybody in the whole damn world. He was her reminder, just like she was his.


	2. Chapter 2

It'd been at least three weeks since her incident. She was laying in bed, legs sprawled out and arms above her head, staring up at the ceiling, just thinking. Clint was already asleep next to her, face down and arm laying across her bare stomach from where her shirt had risen up. The nightmares happened less and less, but she was feeling depressed in a lot of ways, mainly because she felt like she wasn't giving Clint what he deserved. She felt more and more comfortable as days went on...more secure. Her wounds had for the most part healed, except for the toothed scar that sat upon her opposite collarbone, reminding her every day of what happened, from her gunshot scar. She breathed slowly, quietly, yet it was still the only sounds she heard in the silence. She slowly rose up from the bed, throwing her legs to the side to get up off the bed and walk to the bathroom. She shuffled through the medicine cabinet, grabbing the two prescriptions she was on and dropping three pills into her hand. She'd been taking them without him knowing she was on depression and pain medications. She swallowed the pills back, resting her hands against the countertop, sighing deeply. She wanted everything to just go back the way it was with them, and she'd stop feeling so damn miserable that she couldn't make him happy maybe. Arms crept around her waist, holding her gently and lips lingered just under her jaw.

"Hey, Red." His voice rough and hard. She smiled lightly, looking up at him in the mirror, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Hey."

"Why are you up? You okay?" He asked, voice turning to concern. She leaned her head back down, twirling her finger over his hand.

"It's only ten, Clint, I don't crash on contact like you do." She grinned sarcastically.

"I like sleep. Is that a crime?"

"It is when you sleep like a rock, forcing me to sleep like an insomniac otherwise we're fucked if someone tries to kill us in our sleep."

"Oh, poshel na khuy." He replied, translating to 'fuck you' in her mother tongue. She laughed lightly, looking back up at him.

"I'm a good teacher clearly. Listen.." she paused, eyes on his, "..I've been thinking about some things lately."

"That's dangerous...beautiful woman, incredible smarts, that's a combination for death." He joked sweetly. She turned in his arms, with a chuckle, to face him, pressing herself closer to his bare chest.

"Very dangerous, huh?" She added. "Seriously though, I've had a lot on my mind. I know what's happened, well, the long term effect...it's been real unfair to you, because I haven't been a real giving woman-"

"Stop it. No it hasn't. Nat, what happened to you..." he paused, trying to think of the right words, "...was traumatizing. I don't want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm not other guys, Tasha, I don't have to fuck you for the rest of our lives, and I told you, I'll still be happy just to be with you."

"I know, but I still feel, you know, I don't know...bad about it? I want to...make it up to you." She added, a little upset pooling over her.

"Nat.."

"I want to...fuck you again." She answered quietly.

"Tasha, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to feel pressured into this." He retorted sincerely, holding her closer.

"Clint, I don't...I want this back." She answered, running her fingers over his neck, down his biceps.

"You sure about this, Tasha? It can wait...you're not making me any less happy than I already am. You could never do that." He reassured her quietly, his fingers running through her hair. He wanted what she wanted, wanted to feel her around him again, but he didn't want to push it. She sighed deeply at his touch, missing the feeling of the arousal he brought her with a simple stroke of his fingers.

"It would help me, get through it...letting some one who loves me...do this. I miss the feeling of just letting go and feeling whole with you. I'm okay now, I promise." She pled to him sweetly, raising herself up onto the counter, pulling him between her legs, hiking her knees up to rest at his ribs. He held her closer, her breathing uneasy against his lips.

"Tasha, I'm not going to fuck you.." he whispered against her lips, his eyes locked with hers, "..I'm going to make love to you." As cheesy as it sounded, she was too caught up in the moment to even care about cheesy. It was what she wanted, what she needed, and he wanted to make it right for her. She moaned softly, grin spreading across her lips as she closed the little space between them, crushing her lips against his.

"C'mere baby.." he groaned, hands splaying across her thighs and lifting her off the counter, against his chest, to carry her to the bed. Her arms clasped around his neck, letting him guide her and set her down on the bed, moving his lips down her jaw, to her neck as she ran her hands down his bare back to the edge of his pajama pants. His hand smacked hers away lightly, looking back at her.

"Tasha, let me take care of you."

"Better put that mouth of yours to use then, Barton." She moaned impatiently, smiling up at him seductively. "Make love to me, Ptichka."

"Mmmm, your Russian is so fucking sexy." He groaned, pressing his lips back to hers, and he was going to leave his hard Russian begging for more. He continued to kiss down her body, lifting her shirt over her head, returning his lips to her collarbone, licking and pressing his lips and tongue tenderly to the toothed scar, then along to her gunshot wound. Her hands rested at his shoulder blades, nails scraping down his back, causing him to groan, pleasure coursing through her body at the sudden contact in what felt like months.

"Mmm, Clint..." she moaned out, his lips running down to treat her breasts, softly nipping her pale flesh. His lips ghosted down her stomach, licking her hipbones and lingering kisses over her scar on one hip and her arrow tattoo on the other. He looked to her cautiously, his fingers playing at the edge of her shorts.

"Please, Clint...Ptichka....please." She practically pled in a prayer.

"If I need to stop...if it hurts...if there's any discomfort, you tell me to stop, okay?" He demanded softly, his voice overwhelmed with want and desire. She nodded a little, throwing her head back against the pillow as he stripped her shorts and underwear in one fluid motion, setting his lips to her inner thigh, teasing his tongue along the skin there. He took pride in her gasps and cries and begging of him coming from her lips.

"Dammit Clint...oh fuck, I.." her gasps and moans interrupted her pleas of wanting his tongue elsewhere.

"What do you want?" He teased seductively, biting his teeth down tenderly in her thigh. "Tell me, Tash.."

"Your...mm...mouth on me." She cried out, her hands sinking into his hair, twirling her fingers through the short strands. He slowly moved his lips to her, his tongue sliding along her then in her. "Clint...fucking hell, baby.."

She couldn't keep quiet and her hands gripped his hair tighter, yet lovingly, pushing him closer against her, moving her hips harder against his mouth. He hummed with pleasure against her, enjoying this just as much as she was. He loved her taste, making her feel this way, loved knowing he was the only man to make her beg. He ran his hands up and down her body, teasing at her thighs and resting them over his shoulders to feel all of her. Shivers coursed through her body, as she hummed in ecstasy, moaned his name, letting herself fall apart under this man. She felt close, felt so good, and she pushed as close to him as possible in their position, sitting up on her elbows to grind against his mouth and watch him, like he promised, make love to her.

"Clint... s, so fucking..good!" She cried out, nearly over the edge before he pulled his mouth back from her. She keened at the loss of pleasure, gripping his hair tight and forcing him to look at her. "C'mon Clint...finish what you started. Dammit, please..I'm so close...haven't felt like this in..fuck, in forever."

"I'm not done loving you, Nat." He groaned softly, a twitch in his groan as to what came next. He stripped his pants down, kicking them down his legs. He set his hands gently gripping her hips to pull her into his lap, hands caressing her back, pulling his knees up to support her. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pressing herself to him, knees hitching up to his sides. "Show me how you want to feel."

She pressed her lips to his, tongue sliding against his as he slid into her, and she let out a gasp against his lips.

"You okay, Tash?" He asked concerned at her sudden, painful sounding, intake of breath. She nodded reassuringly, biting his bottom lip. It was a little painful at first, she wasn't going to lie, but the intimacy of the moment took over, and all she wanted was him.

"More than okay." She sighed, thrusting her hips slowly down to his, moaning out his name against his lips. He groaned, his hips meeting hers, their sweat glistening bodies sliding against each other easily, skin to skin adding to the pleasure. He closed his mouth back over hers, moving a hand around to reach down between them and treat her as they moved together as one. Their moans clashed and collided, creating waves of indescribable tunes. Her arms gripped his back, nails digging into his shoulders, gasping his name. She was falling apart, hitting her peak hard, speeding up her movements. His own hips met hers to the speed of her own accord. They couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of being joined so intimately.

"Shit, Clint....ohh my g- Clint!" She moaned, throwing her head back, then his lips found the skin of her throat, kissing, licking and nibbling at her creamy skin.

"Fuck, Nat..." he let out a low, elongated groan against her neck, holding her closer to his chest. The sound of their heavy breathing, frantic panting filled the room. She leaned back a little, lifting his chin so his eyes met hers, kissing him slowly, passionately. Their lips moved in synchrony, like a beautifully, choreographed fight, every movement hitting the right sensations. She pulled away a little, staring back into his eyes. "How are you doing, beautiful?"

She smiled, still trying to catch her breath, but she felt so much emotion built up inside her.

"Thank you. Thanks for understanding, for caring so damn much...for making that so fucking....incredible. I love you, Clint." She admitted, pecking her lips to his.

"Don't thank me. I wanted that for you..wanted to feel you with me again. I love you, that's why....I love you so damn much, Nat."  
She simply smiled, forcing him back down to the bed, pulling off him and laying against his chest, her body pressing to his side. He kissed the top of her forehead sweetly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You okay now?"

"Yeah. I'm doing great." She replied with a smiled, twirling and ghosting her fingers along his chest.

"You can stop the depression pills now?" He asked, voice slightly struggling to be heard.  
Her eyes grew wide, and she adjusted her head to look back at him.

"You knew?"

"I didn't say anything, because I knew you weren't hurting yourself. If that's what you needed, I wasn't going to interfer. I'll be here for you if you ever want to talk...just don't hurt yourself." He asked, making her promise. Her heart broke a little, making a desicion to throw the pills out tomorrow.

"I'm sorry."

"I told you, I get it. I'm glad I could at least...make you feel good." He answered honestly. She smiled and so did he, as he leaned down to kiss her chastely, hands running all over her bare skin and pulling her on top of him. She pressed her chest close to his, arms around his neck, legs resting against his sides, knees at his torso.

"You always can." She smirked lightly against his lips, leaning closer into him, and he smiled back, pulling her closer to his chest. She buried her face into his neck, leaning up to kiss his hard jawline. Why the hell did she need drugs for depression when she had him?

**Author's Note:**

> Mixture of two fanfictions I recently read called 'Scars' and 'Seeing Red' by the Tumblr user Black Flying Hawk and some of my own touch..


End file.
